Do Over
by Eireish
Summary: Takes place after Don't Leave Me This Way.


Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. No profit is being made. It's all just for fun. 

Do Over

The neon sign blinked with fire engine red light even on the inside of his eyelids. Woody stood waiting, eyes closed, head resting against the cool brick wall of the Pub. They had worn out their welcome; it was closing time and they had to go home … or … somewhere.

"Do you remember the last time we closed down a bar together?" Nigel's voice cut through the still, early morning air. "Yeah," came Bug's monotone response as the door closed behind him. "You wanted to go to the Greek diner." "It was all in keeping with the theme, Buggles. Besides, I settled for waffles," Nigel responded way too cheerily for such an early hour.

"Well, I'm not really hungry – but I'm not ready to go home quite yet. Any other ideas guys?" Lily asked quietly.

Woody clearly remembered the last time they had closed down a bar together. It had been Max's bar on a snowy morning in February after they solved the copycat Boston Strangler cold case. _And I spent the rest of the morning dancing … with_ _her in my arms_. "My place is just a few blocks from here," Woody offered. "We could unwind there for a while. I could fix us a pot of coffee." And with any luck the coffee and the company would keep him up long enough that, when he finally did get to sleep, the sleep would be dreamless.

The four of them ended up at Woody's place. After this week, a little relaxation with friends sounded promising. These were Jordan's friends who had, at a point he could not determine, become his friends. Their company was easy and undemanding. And even though they had not discussed it, he knew that they were each living different aspects of the same nightmare that besieged him.

Woody disappeared into the kitchen to put the coffee on to brew. Nigel and Bug were already intently engaged in an animated conversation about … something. Lily wandered through the apartment admiring the antique robot collection, stopping in front of what she recognized as the '56 Robbie.

Emerging from the kitchen, Woody watched her as she gently lifted the little metal man from the shelf to more closely examine him. After a few minutes, Lily gently placed the robot back in his place and turned to find Woody looking at her. She met his gaze and smiled at him remembering the first time she had seen that particular robot. And though Woody returned the smile, Lily observed that the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"What about a harmless little game of Truth or Dare," Nigel tossed out the suggestion from the overstuffed chair he occupied. This idea seemed way too risky to Woody's mildly inebriated brain, but before he could respond Bug grunted, "What, with no Ouzo?"

Woody opened his mouth slightly, the question burning in his eyes – but before he could say anything Lily was beside him, her hand gently squeezing his arm. She shook her head slightly and whispered, "Don't ask."

Woody did not miss the smile that crossed Nigel's lips, "Well, I haven't heard any better propositions."

"I have a game, if you're willing to try it. A friend and I made it up one _very_ long summer vacation. We called it 'Do Over'." Lily looked around the room and when no one stopped her, she continued. "You pick something that happened in the past – in history – or in your life – and you imagine how you would do it over differently. You decide how things should have happened."

"You rewrite the past with your imagination, luv?"

"Right. And then you imagine how other things could be different as a result.

We discovered that the History Do Over is easy at first, but the implications of the change can become huge. Like, what if JFK wasn't killed in Dallas? – That's the easy part. Then, consider whether JFK being alive would have changed what happened in Viet Nam. What would have happened to Lee Harvey Oswald? Jack Ruby? Would his brother have run for president and been assassinated less than five years later? You see. Major alterations of history are possible by changing one event. And those changes could affect lots of people.

The Personal Do Over is, well … more personal."

_Way, way too challenging for my few conscious brain cells. _ Luckily, Woody did not have to respond. Rather, the gentle reply came from Bug, "That sounds like fun, Lily. Really. But I'm just too drained to give anything that much thought." Though a look of disappointment briefly crossed Lily's face, she moved over to the couch to sit beside Bug. "You do look tired." She slipped her hand into his.

"With Truth or Dare not an option, I'm out of contingency plans, why don't we just talk."

"About?"

_Lily's almost wedding? JD's bloody murder? The look on Jordan's face when I asked if she was all right? Borrowing that surveillance footage from the party? Jordan's flight to … wherever the hell she is? _

And he _certainly_ did **_not_** want to talk about – or even think about – the feelings. The _relief_ he felt when Jordan asked for his help. The fluttering of _hope_ that began to stir within his gut as it dawned on him that, despite being out of synch, she still trusted him enough to ask for his support. The _prickly comfort_ he took in the _familiarity_ of his role in aiding her. The _disillusionment_ he grappled with as he tried to come to terms with Lu's actions toward Jordan – and the _sickening realization_ that his relationship with Lu – and her jealousy of Jordan – could possibly further jeopardize Jordan's freedom, if not her very life. The _helplessness_ that came with the dawning awareness that he had no idea what anything meant anymore. He needed to stay awake, keep himself occupied, take himself to the brink of total exhaustion in order to keep it all at bay …

"How about Charades? Pictionary? Catch Phrase?" Woody countered Nigel's previous suggestion. After brief consideration, they opted for a game of Charades. Fun. Simple. Inane. And with the benefit of coffee, the game continued until – one by one the participants nodded off. All except Woody.

Bug and Lily were cuddled on the couch. Woody stood watching his friends sleep for a few moments. He didn't know Bug nearly as well as he did Lily and Nigel. But, Lu had once shared with him that Bug thought he was a "good guy." That went a long way with Woody –_ it's what someone says behind your back that really counts_.

Woody gently picked up a stray lock of hair from Lily's cheek and tucked it behind her ear as a soft sigh escaped his lips. _I saw the way you were looking at that robot earlier. You were remembering that night, too – the night you came over here and I made spaghetti … and Jordan stopped by …_

Bug shifted in his sleep, wrapping his arm a little tighter around Lily's waist. It had taken these two a long time to get to this point, and Woody sincerely hoped that things would work out for them_. Don't take anything for granted, 'cause even when things seem to be going your way … there are no guarantees. I hope you two can make it … someone around here deserves to be happy._

Nigel's lanky frame was embedded in the overstuffed chair he had claimed earlier, and his feet were propped up on the ottoman. He looked comfortable enough. _I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. You are forever at her beck and call. This is an odd little family._

Woody double-checked the locks, turned out the lights, and quietly slipped into his bedroom to find what solace he could between the cool sheets of his bed. _Sleep … blessed sleep … without dreams – please_.

XXXXXX

He awoke to his body's reaction to the soft, warm being spooned against him. God, he never got tired of the smell of her … the feel of her… With some effort he opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight that was streaming through the tiny gap in the curtains and directly into his face. He lay as still as he could – reveling in the sensations spreading through his body and the contentment that washed over his conscious mind. _Who'd 'a thought … _

From the moment he first set eyes on her, and the next when she slammed his tie … he knew. _Moth to a flame._ All the internal alarms had gone off in force – echoing through his psyche in the familiar voice of his favorite TV Robot – _Danger, Woody Hoyt! … Danger, Woody Hoyt!_

But the allure was tremendous. She was an enigma. And she was everything he had _ever_ imagined desiring in a woman. She had it all … independence … intelligence … intuition … _Danger!_ … fascination … frustration … familiarity … _Danger!_ … mystery … _Danger!_ … challenge … comfort … compassion … _Danger!_ … She was passionate, tenacious, vulnerable and confident … _and she was hot_. _Very_.

Though the initial innocence of their association had worn off quickly, it seemed to him that bit-by-bit the potential benefits of orbiting her world began to outweigh the risks. His mind was open, and hers was brilliant.

She told him on their second case together that she could get used to working with him; gradually their working relationship developed taking on, at times, an almost symbiotic quality. Their personal bond developed as well, becoming ever more electric and increasingly mercurial.

Her ever-so-slight movement jolted him from his reverie and he moved his hand, splaying his fingers to protectively cover as much of her rounded abdomen as possible. Feeling his movement, she began to wake, moaning softly and wriggling a bit to nestle closer into his warmth. A soft groan escaped his throat as his groin reacted to her bottom rubbing against it, and he was rewarded with a soft, deep chuckle. "Something funny, Doctor?" His early morning voice was husky, close to her ear. "Not at all, Detective." Her arm snaked out behind her and her hand wrapped possessively around his hardness. She smiled at the quick intake of breath she heard next to her ear. "Oh, God … Jordan …" He could have sworn that he heard another soft chuckle as she began to stroke him.

_Two can play this game._ He brushed her hair away from her neck and began to nuzzle softly, laying kisses along the side of her neck, across her shoulder, and up behind her ear. At the same time, his hand traveled up under the hem of her sleep shirt to cup her breast – then rub the already erect nipple, gently pinching and tugging and rolling. Until the hiss he had been waiting for escaped from her lungs, ending in a very breathy, "Woody!" _That's what I've been waiting for …_

He gently rolled her over onto her back and hungrily claimed her mouth with his, skating his tongue across her lips as her mouth opened to allow him access. Their tongues danced passionately until the quick, shallow breaths he had been taking got the better of him and he pulled back for a deep intake of air. He looked into her eyes, smoky with desire, and his heart nearly burst in his chest. He pulled her as close to him as he could, holding her tightly.

He didn't understand the fear that suddenly threatened to overcome him. He fought the foreboding he felt lurking at the periphery of his mind. He just needed to hold her to him as closely as possible.

The abrupt shift in his mood was reflected in the deep ocean-blue of his eyes. She did not understand what was happening, but she willingly folded herself into his arms. With her ear pressed tightly against his chest, she could hear the rapid, solid beat of his heart – she pulled him even closer and relaxed against him.

What seemed like forever passed before Woody moved, pulling back and propping himself on his elbow, he reached out to cup Jordan's chin in his hand – he gently lowered his lips to hers. He felt her smile under his kisses. "I love you, Jordan," the confession came out softly, simply, honestly. "And I love you, Woody," her profession muffled between his continuing kisses. She could feel his heartbeat slowing down, his body beginning to relax.

The kisses slowed and Woody lay back against the pillows, pulling her to him. Even though she was afraid to ask, she had to know. Her voice came out in a whisper, much softer than she intended, "Was it that … feeling … again?" He nodded, studying the ceiling, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"Please, Wood, talk to me. I need to know what's going on." She felt Woody shrug beside her. "I can't tell what I don't know, Jo. I really don't understand it myself. One second everything is fine." _Way more than fine._ "And the next second I feel something out there – out of my sight, out of my hearing – but out there. I can't explain it – it just feels so …ominous. And all I want … no … need … I need to hold you … as closely as possible."

"Well, there _are_ worse things," Jordan purred into his ear sending shivers down his spine, "to hear your lover say," she nibbled at his ear lobe, "than that they _need_ to hold you." This attempt to diffuse the situation began to work on Woody as he felt his body begin to respond to her … again.

His voice was hushed when he finally spoke and she had to strain to hear him. "We were on a path to destruction, you and I. I could feel it … like a train I was helpless to stop. When did it all turn around, Jordan? What happened?" He was not sure why he needed to know, but for some reason understanding seemed imperative.

If this turn of the conversation surprised Jordan, she did not show it. After just a moment of thought she smiled at him. _Whatever is going on with you has me a bit – a lot – concerned. It is just not like you to wax philosophical on me at this hour … or when we're romantically … umm … occupied._

Not at all sure that this early hour would produce the most coherent answers, she knew she had to be forthcoming with him. She could tell by this new look in his eyes that he would not be deterred. In her mind, she worked to make her response understandable, and then cautiously she acquiesced. "I'm not sure when it all started to … change … for you. But for me – it was the night that I showed up at your place unannounced. I told you that I didn't feel like going home and asked if you wanted to order pizza – but you invited me to stay for spaghetti." Woody nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes guarding his thoughts from her.

_And when I slipped away into the bedroom for "just a second" I was able to call Lily and ask her not to come over that night to see the '56 Robbie. _Woody remembered the aching suspicion he had that night that he may not get a chance like this with Jordan again any time soon … if ever.

"You know that things had been showing up on my windshield when I went to Summit View … first my mother's hair clip, then her admission card, then an envelope of her personal belongings. The spiral was starting." Woody made a soft sound and when she looked into his eyes she could read the questions there.

"It had happened before. Spiral is the best word I can think of to describe it. I could feel myself slipping but didn't know how to stop it. I had already pushed Garret away – earlier that day. He had an idea of what was happening with me. Again. And even though I knew that the last time the spiral happened I ended up getting fired … there just didn't seem to be any options. I didn't feel like I had anywhere to turn … anywhere stable. I didn't know how to slow it down, much less stop it.

When I went to the file room of Summit View," Jordan could tell by the tensing of Woody's body that he remembered, "Herman Redding gave me an envelope with a piece of paper in it. Nigel found a fingerprint on the paper and he was still running the print for me when I got to your place that night."

"That was the phone call you got shortly after you arrived," Woody interjected, "Nigel called to tell you that the print was a 'phantom'." Jordan nodded. "But, Jordan, you stayed…" Jordan nodded again not sure whether Woody meant it as a question or a statement. "Yeah, I stayed. And we talked the rest of the night, remember?"

"Oh, I remember. But I've often wondered … "

"They knew you, Woody. They knew things about you, things that were important to you, things that I had no idea about. You and I were _friends_, Wood, but Lily and Nigel were _your confidants_."

"My '56 Robbie?"

Jordan nodded.

Woody was just a bit surprised by this admission and he tightened his hold on her briefly, encouraging her to continue. "Dinner was over. And we were still talking. We talked until early the next morning." She stopped again to look deeply into his eyes. "I made a connection with you that night that I've never made with anyone else, ever. Without that night, Woody, I don't even want to think about where I'd be, where we'd be."

Her statement took his breath away in its nakedness, honesty. "Wow. Um … Why?"

"I really don't know if I can fully answer that. It may have to do with the way I was beginning to feel. About you. About Us."

"Us?" It escaped before he could stop himself.

"Yeah. Us." The response was sheepish. "I found myself willing to take a chance for some reason. That night. And the more we talked, the simpler it all seemed. And the easier it was to keep talking." He found himself searching her eyes for confirmation of what he was hearing. And he found it.

"You met me there. Where I was emotionally that night. In your words and, at times, in your silence … you helped me start to believe that maybe … just maybe … everything could turn out all right. There was comfort in that for me. And I began to wonder if maybe I was capable of trusting … you."

Jordan studied him for a moment. "This surprises you." It was a question as much as observation. She reached out to him, running her fingers lightly down the side of his face.

"Yeah," he exhaled slowly. She could tell that he was processing everything she had just confided. She waited.

"But … 'us' – 'us' didn't happen for such a long time after that. And most of that time was so – complicated."

"I know." _What else can I say? _ "I'm so sorry I can't do it over."

Both of their minds flew back in time, snatching memories here and there along the way and bringing them into focus for a moment before releasing them and rushing on to the next. Finally, softly, he asked, "Why Pollack?"

In answer, and equally softly, she responded, "Why Detective Simmons?"

An impish grin spread across his face, "That's rhetorical, right?" She laughed.

He groaned as the sound of her laughter echoing in his head gradually turned into the incessant, too loud chatter of his talk radio alarm. Disappointment washed over him and without opening his eyes, he semiconsciously reached over to the nightstand and hit the snooze button. Maybe, just maybe he wasn't too awake and he'd be able to get back to her cuddled up next to him – for nine more minutes. That was when the alarm would go off again, and he would have to wake up to face another day … without Jordan.

XXXXXX

Jordan woke up laughing. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, she basked in the residual sensations of her dream. It had all been so real ... so right. The sound of her own laughter and the smell of _him_ lingered faintly in the air.

The dream had been nothing like the nightmares that afflicted her lately; there had been nothing dark or desperate about it. _What on earth brought this up? I haven't thought about _that night_ in – forever … it is almost like that night was in a different lifetime._ She lay motionless (not in Woody's bed – but in the lumpy bed of a cheap motel room rented with cash and without questions) willing herself back into her dream and back into Woody's arms.


End file.
